Skin Deep
by Michelleypie
Summary: Season 3 fic, eventually B/D - Betty has a new life - a new apartment, a new magazine, and a new assignment, which is more than she could have imagined. Daniel has a new outlook, which dramatically affects the way he sees his assistant AND her assignment.
1. Chapter 1

Betty checked her watch for what must have been the sixteenth time in the past five minutes.

11:22.

The movers were now fifty minutes late, which meant that she ran a risk of breaking her promise to Daniel.

Again.

She told him that she'd be able to make it for half a day at least, because her new landlord swore that there was absolutely, positively no moving on weekends and she had to arrange furniture arrivals on weekday mornings. She was forced to sacrifice her morning to be certain that none of the movers damaged any of the furniture that Betty knew darn well she was too clumsy to assemble on her own. This was the third time in the past four weeks that a furniture delivery was late, and it was starting to get annoying.

She got her living room furniture; that was good. She knew that it was a good couch because Hilda and Justin practically fell asleep on it when they visited the other night. Her dad said it was perfect, but he had a tendency to say that everything she did was perfect. Well, except for the dining set she got from an internet sales page, which he claimed looked used even though she was pretty sure it wasn't. At least he was dependable; he came to check out her furniture as often as possible.

If her dad was delivering the furniture, it would have gotten here sooner.

Hell, Henry could have delivered the furniture faster from Tucson himself.

No. No thoughts of Henry. Absolutely not.

Or maybe Gio could have delivered it - if he didn't decide keeping his distance from her was best after she pretty much turned him down.

No, no, no…no thoughts of Gio either.

She promised herself.

She made her choices. They made theirs. She could not be the substitute mother for Henry's baby. She would not abandon everyone she loved on Henry's behalf. Meanwhile, she would not be in a relationship where Gio called all the shots, coerced her into trips she wasn't ready to take and made every decision for her.

She was her own person. For the first time in a while.

Unlike Henry, she had no baby. Unlike Gio, she had no plan. She had nobody to impress, nobody to help, nobody to care for – it was about time that she loved herself first and foremost and that was that.

If only the movers loved Betty just as much.

She was about to pick up her phone and call to find out where they were when…

BUZZ!

She went over to the buzzer that signaled someone was ringing her apartment. She imagined for a moment how excited Henry was every time she saw him push his apartment button to respond to a food delivery, as though it were the most innovative and novel concept on Earth. Henry was fascinated by such simple things.

Stop.

Thinking.

Of.

Henry.

She scolded herself and buzzed the movers in. Today they'd be delivering her full size mattress. She'd been making use of the air mattress Daniel had gotten her as a housewarming gift for the past few nights. It wasn't too bad, but she really needed a REAL mattress, a REAL bed. Once that happened, it would be complete.

She, Betty Suarez, was on her own. For the first time in her life.

The movers brought in her mattress and laid it down gently upon her full bed frame. She gave it a full inspection the way her father taught her to. Everything seemed to be okay. She lay down on it and resisted the urge to bounce up and down, smiling to herself.

It was funny; for someone who missed Henry so desperately – who secretly missed her family as well – she never felt so free before.

It was only then that she realized that the movers were still there. She made sure that they were fully paid, signed a few sheets of paper that she didn't read on a clipboard she was sure was older than she was, and let them out.

She had to get to work. But before she did that, she took a moment to look around the room and smile.

This was her place. Her own studio apartment. Sure, it was about the size of her living room at home. Sure, it had paint that chipped in certain places here or there. Sure, it was not what she'd always dreamed of living in as a little girl. But this was HERS. This was something that wouldn't leave her, that couldn't be taken away as long as she kept on top of her expenses. Nobody else could have this. Nobody.

* * *

Player Magazine was not at ALL what Daniel expected.

Then again, nothing was at all what Daniel expected.

Alexis wasn't. She sold her own brother out and gave the best opportunity he ever had to Wilhelmina, which was, quite possibly, the biggest stab in the back he could have imagined. She neglected to tell Daniel that she had relations with the model who mothered the child Daniel thought was his, and that Alexis – not Daniel –was the father. Or, as it was, Alexis was the second mother who was once the father. Of course, Daniel only found this out after he had become really happy with the idea of being a father. Then it was taken away from him just like everything else he ever loved.

At least he got a nephew out of it, and that still filled a big void in him.

The way his nephew looked at him; nothing could have replaced that. Daniel didn't have to be perfect, didn't have to run a magazine as smoothly as ever, didn't have to come home with the prettiest model in the runway show – he just had to be there, and he'd be the kid's hero. Even upon finding out that Daniel wasn't his father, young Daniel still admired him, still respected him, and did so in a way that nobody in the world had ever done before.

It was as though he had left the shack he was living in before and found himself a mansion; he was free to explore these opportunities he never had before.

And then what did Alexis do?

Place him in a magazine that sent him right back down to the shack.

It was amazing; for years Daniel considered himself a player. Well, who was he kidding? He still WAS a player. No matter how much satisfaction he got out of being a role model, he still couldn't help but love the admiration he got from women. Beautiful women, who wanted nothing more than to sleep with him. How could he complain?

Sadly, however, when you were Editor-in-Chief of Player magazine, you didn't get much play.

More often than not, women gave him the silent treatment. He was no longer the guy who had access to the models, clothes and trends – he was the one encouraging all the jerks they've ever dated in their lives to be jerks.

And, well, the people at Player – they WERE jerks.

Which made him almost uncomfortable to have Betty there with him.

He couldn't let her go as his assistant; he knew nobody would be up to the kind of job that she could do. No matter what snide remarks any of the guys at the magazine uttered about her, no matter how they made a total mockery of her when they thought Daniel couldn't hear him, no matter how many times advertisers had suggested that he have an assistant that reflected better on the magazine (because why would a true player have a sweet, soft spoken girl without much sex appeal at all as assistant to the Editor-in-Chief?), he knew that she was an asset to his office.

For many reasons.

For one, if he hired any old assistant – any hot girl, it would distract the guys. They would care more about getting her into bed than getting their work to him.

Not that Betty was so repellant that he never thought anyone could like her. True, at onset, she was almost what you would call ridiculous, but once you got to know her, there was something that made her cuter than you remembered. Nevertheless, Betty wasn't that kind of girl; the kind that would take any guys' number and flaunt herself for attention. He knew it, and he respected it.

Besides, she was a good assistant. He didn't imagine having anyone else under his wing. She knew everything about him; his quirks, his moods, his gestures, EVERYTHING. He didn't quite feel ready to have someone else fill in her shoes.

And, lastly…he wasn't ready to share her.

That was rather selfish of him, he admitted it, but why should anyone else get to have an assistant as good as she was? Why would anyone else get to have the companionship that Daniel sought in Betty? They started in this company together and they would stay in this company together.

No. They could take away his job, they could take away his opportunity to be a father, they could take away his pride, but they could not take away Betty – she was Daniel's and Daniel's alone.

That may have been part of the reason why Daniel didn't seem to make many friends at his new job.

The guys seemed nice enough – until the subject of Betty came up. They'd poke fun at her braces, they'd comment on her weight, they'd imitate her high pitched voice, and it all made Daniel feel something he never felt before. A rush of adrenaline would hit him; he'd feel furious all of a sudden, and an urge to rip every one of these guys apart limb from limb would momentarily pass. He thought of Betty – sweet, naïve, hard working Betty, sitting at her desk typing and not even realizing that everyone so nice to her face was saying such hurtful things behind her back.

If he didn't fear Alexis would completely remove him from his post, he would have acted upon his urges and, for a rare moment in his life, let out his aggression physically.

He couldn't do that, though. He may feel angry, but, hey, when he first met Betty, say it or not, he had the same first impression.

And realizing that only made him hate himself as much as he hated them.

This cloud of thoughts invading his mind at his desk was interrupted, ironically enough, by the appearance of a very rushed looking Betty. Her hair was more disheveled than usual, and it looked as though she threw on her multicolored jumper and bright blue tights in the dark with her eyes closed. Her glasses sat on her face in a slightly crooked way.

"Betty? Are you okay?" He asked, allowing her to catch her breath before replying.

"Daniel," she panted. "I'm…sorry…I'm…l…late."

"You're not…" Daniel turned to his clock.

Wow.

She was late.

Half an hour late.

She was supposed to be here at twelve.

"…that late," Daniel finished. "It's okay; it was kind of a slow morning. Why don't you take a few minutes and just check the messages?"

Betty nodded, still panting, and walked awkwardly over to her desk. Daniel was about to go and ask her how the movers did when his phone rang. Betty reached over to get it, but he signaled to her that he would get it on his own, and she went straight to check his emails.

"This is Daniel Meade."

"Daniel, it's Alexis," came a cold voice from the other end. He and Alexis hadn't gotten on so well since firing Daniel put Alexis in their mother's dog house. Naturally, Alexis would find a way to make this his fault.

"What's up?" Daniel asked.

"Deadline is in two days, Daniel, and I still haven't approved those last few pages I asked you for."

"I told you, Bill from features was out for a few days and he'll have it to you by the end of the day."

"So your guys are taking vacations right before deadline? Are you insane?"

Naturally.

Daniel screwed up. Again.

No. Daniel didn't. Alexis was wrong. Daniel would show her.

"One of my guys just went to visit his sick mother in the hospital. Because, you know, there are some people that actually care about their families more than their jobs."

Silence.

He had her.

He grinned to himself.

"Whatever," she muttered. "Just…make sure it's back by the end of the day. Oh, and Daniel? I need to see Betty."

Betty?

What did she need Betty for?

"Why?"

"Well, not that it matters, Daniel, but…"

"She's _my _assistant. Of course it matters. If she's missing a lot slows down around here."

"…what I was saying is that I know she's a freelancer and I wanted to give her an assignment. We haven't decided which of the women's magazines it will go into; it'll depend on the space available, the article tone and how it's written. But an advertiser's given us a pitch and we want to shoot for next month's issue."

He looked at Betty, looking eagerly at Daniel's emails and writing notes down on different color post-its, organizing her thoughts in the anal style that she ordinarily did. If he went in and told her that she had a big freelance assignment, she may throw a hyperactive fit and put her post its in complete and utter disarray by accident.

But it would be fun to watch.

Nevertheless…why Betty? That was an odd request. He could understand his mom asking, but Alexis cared more about work than making people like Betty happy.

Was this assignment going to make her look like a fool?

"What's the assignment?"

"That, Daniel, is between Betty and Meade's advertisers and myself; it's supposed to be completely secret so nobody else grabs the marketing scheme. Now can you please send her in?"

"Now?"

"Now." With that, Alexis hung up the phone and Daniel looked at Betty, whose feather pen was now moving so quickly it seemed as though she had two fluorescent green feathers floating on top of it instead of one.

He had to look at the bright side – she wanted to be a writer. She truly did. And, well, she was, at best, average in the writing department at this point. Sure, she had potential, but she'd never really allowed herself to take the opportunity to use it. Even if this was a crazy assignment, it would get her one step closer to where she deserved to be.

He had to tell her.

He walked to his door, looking over at her desk and trying to say her name in a way that wouldn't startle her too much, for she was in deep concentration.

"Betty?"

She only jumped a little bit, spastically let her pen fall to the floor and dropped one post it; not too bad by Betty standards.

"Yes?"

"Alexis wants to see you."

Daniel knew immediately that was the wrong way to phrase it, because he saw a look of terror immediately cross Betty's eyes.

"Look, okay, I took _one_ bagel, but I thought the tray was for the whole office! I had no idea that it was for an advertiser's meeting until I saw them all coming in…"

Daniel had to laugh. Betty was a trip and a half when she wanted to be.

"No. She has an assignment for you. A freelance writing assignment." Betty's eyes glowed and her cheekbones were dramatically raised as she showed her most vibrant, excited, metallic smile.

"Get out! Which magazine?"

"I don't know. She said it was top secret – between you and her."

"Oh, but, Daniel, I could tell you, of course."

Daniel didn't understand why, but hearing that from her made him smile. Almost as excitedly as Betty did.

"No, I don't think so. This is your gig. Go get it and do just what she says – if it's none of my business, we'll keep it that way."

"Fine," Betty said, still smiling and excitedly prancing over to him with her hand extended. "But I have to at least get a high five on this one; come on!"

Daniel happily complied, and as he did, he noticed that, after his hand met hers, she took it for a minute and clumsily intertwined their fingers as she jumped up and down.

Maybe it was because he never had any reason to notice before, but he couldn't ignore that, even with a spastic move like that, her skin was really soft.

"I've got another assignment!" She said, releasing his hand in what, surprisingly, made Daniel disappointed.

He giggled along with her, though.

There simply were not enough Betty's in the world.

"Well, why are you still here, then, huh? Get outta here! Go on!" She gave him one last smile as she practically danced to the elevator.

He walked over and looked at the messages she wrote down, trying to ignore the memory of her soft hand or the happiness he felt knowing that she felt she could tell him anything – tell him everything…

"Hey, where are the doughnuts? Suarez was excited, so they must be around!"

Daniel's head turned sharply around. Again, two of the guys in photo were discussing Betty as though he didn't hear them.

"Maybe it's Taco day on Monday instead."

"Hey, what are you two, thirteen-year-old girls?" Daniel heard himself say before he could think about what was escaping his mouth. "This is a magazine. How about you try growing up and getting back to work?"

They stared at him, shocked and embarrassed; Daniel had never replied to any of their comments before. But they weren't going to spoil her happiness; not today, when she was so excited.

He went back to read his messages, hoping that Alexis wouldn't spoil her happiness, either.


	2. Chapter 2

It's okay, Betty

_It's okay, Betty._

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

After her meeting with Alexis, Betty was at a loss for words.

If she did this article, it would probably be as big a deal as Alexis pitched it to be. Alexis said that it could truly reach women – all women – of all shapes and sizes.

Naturally. Betty couldn't just be any old freelance reporter; she had to be the girl that fit into the "All Shapes and Sizes" category.

She looked once more at the advertiser's pitch.

_Seeking out a young female freelance writer with an unconventional sense of style and charisma for a 3-day "Skin Deep" experiment. How does exposing more skin – even in the most modest amounts – enable a woman to feel differently about herself? How does the use of our skin products alongside this change affect a woman's self-esteem and perception of her own beauty? We want answers – good or bad. We're pitching our products to real women and we need a real woman to tell it like it is._

Primarily, Betty couldn't help but feel that this was a little…one sided. Suppose she didn't feel comfortable using a certain moisturizer or wearing a particular outfit – how could she objectively say that without getting the advertisers angry?

Alexis said that was fine; good publicity, bad publicity – it was all publicity, and because Betty was never a fashion connoisseur in the first place, it wouldn't hurt the advertisers. If anything, they could just change the tone of the article to reveal that the products are perfect for a more intimate, self sufficient setting and that the confidence brought on by them is not something that needs to be shared.

Then she thought more.

She would be selling her soul to do this.

She knew herself, and she didn't show skin. The world wasn't exactly ready for that yet. They could barely stomach her in the modest outfits she already wore. Besides, she had so many more important things going for her – intelligence, morals, self respect…

Alexis said Betty didn't have to do a complete makeover or change anything about herself, except for the fact that she would have to use the skin care products and display their results with a comfortable amount of skin exposure; spaghetti straps, V-necks, tank tops – simple stuff.

Sure.

Simple.

When you had a figure like Alexis did, that was all very simple.

Alexis said she had to stop thinking about it as an opportunity to sell her soul and try considering this – Betty represented the average American figure. Millions of girls like her have longed to try different styles and felt that they couldn't because girls like them weren't represented in popular culture. This was a chance for her to be a face behind their desires and hopes, a safe haven for their collective longing to try styles that may be a little riskier for them.

No pressure.

No matter what Alexis fed her, it amounted to the same thing.

Basically, she would have to strut around in skimpier tops and skin bearing outfits she didn't even get to choose to help a skin cream company get publicity.

She may as well have had the word "farce" tattooed to her forehead.

Alexis must have read her mind, because she told her that this is the problem with women – they see the use of beauty products and attempts to feel sexier as "selling out", as though they can't hold on to their moral fiber and still look attractive. She said this could be an eye opening experience; a way to get many girls to identify with her and recognize her name. It could open so many doors for her as a writer.

That was one way to put it.

Opportunities or not, there was one thing lingering in Betty's mind that she couldn't escape.

She tried wearing a tank top once in her life – ninth grade. It was fire red; her mom had picked it out for her and said she looked beautiful in it. She proudly wore it to school, and her new look earned her a nickname.

Plump Tomato.

Alexis said that this only made the opportunity more appealing. There were more "plump tomatoes" than skinny models in the world, anyway, and those girls needed to know that they didn't have to run scared from anyone's derogatory remarks.

She was probably right.

In truth, the assignment wasn't all that ridiculous. She was given 3 shirts to wear and advised to match them with jeans, slacks or skirts. Then, while wearing them, she had to document her experience and take a few photographs with Jo Stern, a company photographer. She didn't have to change her look otherwise; she didn't need to wear excessive make up, sit with a stylist, or quit her job and pretend to be a plus size model. She just needed to show a little more skin. Her skin.

In truth, the shirts were kind of pretty. One was a black halter top with embroidery around the neckline (which seemed a bit low), the second was a bright pink halter top, and the third was a deep red, corset-style spaghetti strap top.

Not too bad.

The last thing she needed, however, was for Daniel to see them, so she arranged to leave them in Alexis's office until the end of the day.

And then…that would be it. She was doomed.

The guys at Player Magazine gave her enough trouble already; so much so that she missed Amanda terribly on a daily basis, and that was saying something.

What would they say…how would they treat her…if she came in looking even more different than she already did?

No.

Betty told herself to forget this.

This was a big assignment – one that had the ability to truly affect women. This couldn't be taken lightly; it was her chance to use her craft to change the way women felt. She had to take this opportunity.

She had to…

* * *

Betty was unusually quiet. It troubled Daniel more than he could have imagined.

She seemed to have lost the gung-ho attitude that she demonstrated before. This assignment must have been challenging.

Hopefully not too challenging.

He saw her at her desk, typing madly and avoiding his gaze. She had that expression on her face, that _I'm hiding something and doing a horrible job at it_ expression.

What was Alexis going to have her do?

Sure – Betty couldn't say. Well, she couldn't say _much_. Betty was horrible at keeping secrets when she knew someone was on to her. He'd get it out of her.

He was about to do just that when she knocked on his office door.

"Daniel, the photographer you wanted for next month's issue is here."

Ah…Joe Stern, quite possibly the guy with the keenest eye for women around. He had glanced at Joe's portfolio and couldn't imagine how this guy had managed to take such beautiful, provocative shots of all of the women featured in them. He captured every alluring quality and each luscious curve.

"Great, Betty! Show him in."

Oh, no.

Betty's _other_ expression.

The "Daniel, you've got the brains of my toenail" glare of disappointment.

"Show _him_ in?"

What did she mean by that?

"Yeah…Joe Stern…"

"_Jo_ Stern… short for _Josephine_ Stern!" Betty corrected.

A woman photographed women that well?

A _woman_ photographed _women_…_that_ well?

"Josephine?" he asked, trying not to show his confusion. Evidently he failed, for Betty rolled her eyes.

"God, Daniel, I only told you about her twenty times!"

"Alright, alright, just send her in," Daniel muttered. Betty strutted out disapprovingly, doing what Daniel imagined was contemplating how much of a moron he actually was.

A woman.

Photographing other women.

It would be very difficult for Daniel to make it out of this meeting in one piece. How was he supposed to stay professional when an image like that crossed his mind?

And then she came in…

Daniel was amazed, because he'd never been attracted to a woman like this before, but couldn't help it. She was curvy, with thick, full hips, hugged by a tight black skirt. She wore a red blouse, which was buttoned down low enough to see generous amounts of ample cleavage.

Trying not to be completely unprofessional, Daniel struggled to look at her face.

She had piercing sky blue eyes that struck Daniel immediately, long, chestnut brown hair that fell in spiral curls around her face, and a perfect, white, sparkling smile.

"Hello Mr. Meade," she greeted, extending her hand for him to shake.

"Pleased to meet you Ms. Stern," Daniel replied, taking her hand and softly shaking it, continuing his struggle to focus on her eyes.

"So, your assistant tells me you've seen my portfolio shots."

"Oh, yes," Daniel said, trying desperately to keep his eyes away from the opening in her shirt. "It was wonderful work. I was definitely impressed."

Jo gave him a look not much different from Betty's and giggled.

"You thought I was a guy, didn't you?"

"No," Daniel lied, his eyes meeting hers, which looked as skeptical as they were beautiful. He shook his head, smiling as well. "Well, okay, I sort of had the impression that you were."

"Good! That's what I was going for!" Joe replied. "That's why I go by Jo; gets people to be less intimidated to call back."

"People were intimidated?" Daniel asked, as though he himself never was.

"Oh, yeah. That, or they think about a woman taking underwear and swimsuit photos of other women and get overexcited. But, of course, you wouldn't know about that."

She grinned at him.

A malicious, sexy, irresistible grin.

Well, two could play at this game.

"Not at all," Daniel said as smoothly as possible.

"Well, in any case, my agent sent over all of my required fees. If you're fine with what I sent you and are willing to meet my required costs, I'm willing to discuss concepts."

"Absolutely," Daniel replied, although he couldn't remember exactly what those fees were. It didn't matter; he just needed to work with a woman like this.

"Good!" Jo continued. "Now, what was the theme you were going for?"

Great.

How was he supposed to describe this to a woman without sounding like a total pig?

"Okay," he stuttered. "Well, the idea…the concept _was_…I mean, it's all…"

"Mr. Meade, it's okay," Jo assured him. "You've seen my photos and I'm sure you can tell that it takes quite a bit to make me blush."

Perfection.

_Cool it, Daniel_.

"Well, okay," Daniel said. "For the fall issue, we wanted to do a harvest time spread."

"Oh, I see," Jo enthusiastically responded. "You want to do a metaphor where women are the wheat or the gourds…sort of like a cornucopia?"

"Yes!" Daniel said.

"Okay, I can do that. In fact, it could really work. Pumpkins are round and shapely. A world of innuendos is possible."

"Yes…round and shapely is…"

Daniel observed Jo raising her eyebrows and bit his tongue.

Damn.

Thin girls hated fat innuendos. What would a shapely woman like Jo think of them?

"…great!"

"Good. Now, I'll just have to have a good assortment of models; really capture the female form for all tastes in men."

Daniel certainly wanted to capture _her_ female form…every last curve in it.

"Okay, will do."

"So, when can we arrange to meet with the models and discuss the concept in more detail?"

"Well," Daniel coyly replied. "If you'd be interested in discussing concepts or anything else over, say, dinner…"

She laughed.

Nobody ever laughed when he asked them out.

Thinner women. Models. Internationally recognized faces. They didn't laugh.

"Mr. Meade, with all due respect, I take my work very seriously and, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not be the editorial for Player's next issue. Let's just keep this strictly business."

He was turned down.

He was turned down by the most unconventionally appealing woman he'd ever hit on.

"Sounds fair," he said, extending his hand. She very cordially shook it, her blue eyes still sparkling.

"Now that that's settled," she continued, "It'll actually be really easy to get in touch with you because Ms. Meade just assigned me to work on that big skin product article with your assistant, Miss Suarez."

Betty.

He'd forgotten about that.

Wait a minute…

Jo took provocative photos.

She was doing a skin product article.

Betty?

Skin?

Provocative?

No.

NO.

_NO!_

"W-what?"

"Oh…crap, I didn't know you weren't in on it. Look, let's just forget I said anything."

Forget?

Forget that Alexis was about to make Betty even more the laughingstock of Made enterprises than she already was?

Betty didn't _do_ provocative…or show skin!

But then again…

…Jo had slipped.

If Alexis knew Jo wasn't trustworthy, they couldn't continue to hire her at Meade, could they?

And if Daniel were to negotiate a way to conceal her carelessness, he could help to get closer to Betty's assignment…and closer to Jo in the meantime.

"Well, Alexis won't be too pleased you slipped."

"I really don't think it's that big a deal," Jo responded, looking cooler about it than Daniel would have hoped. He was used to Betty's perfectionist and neurotic nature; this was completely new.

"Not yet. But…if you have dinner with me…"

"Ah, I see," Jo sighed, turning her blue eyes to the ceiling. "I mean, really, Mr. Meade –"

"Daniel…"

"_Mr. Meade_…are you that desperate to take me out?"

"I wouldn't call it desperate," Daniel replied, trying to catch her eye again. "I'm just trying to look out for your best interests. I wouldn't want your slip to cause you problems here."

"Fine," she replied, smiling as though she arranged the whole thing. "Tomorrow at seven. Bertucci's."

Bertucci's.

Italian.

A woman who ate carbs.

It had been a while.

"Great."

She stood up, and as Daniel eagerly admired the rear view of her hourglass curves, she turned.

"Just as a warning, though," Jo said. "I'm sure you've deduced this already, but I eat. A lot. I don't know if most of your dates do that."

"That's just fine," Daniel said with a smile.

"Hm. I thought you'd be a bit overwhelmed."

"It takes a lot to make me blush," Daniel replied. She grinned at him and made her way out.

Daniel felt excitement, but that faded quickly when he looked at Betty.

She would never have agreed to this article. She was…Betty. She didn't have Jo's natural sex appeal or seductive way about her. She didn't take the kind of photos Jo was known for. It wasn't her.

If she showed skin, the guys would laugh at her even more than they already did.

He knew it.

He'd seen it happen once.

Her first week at Mode.

She was posing in a most unflattering outfit, a ploy to get her to quit that was entirely his fault. The thing was, back then, he didn't even look at her skin. At all.

He looked at her face.

Her eyes – those eager, peppy, vibrant eyes were clouded with hurt, anger and humiliation.

He never wanted to see her like that again. Not if he could help it.

He'd get closer to Jo; make her vulnerable to him – he could do that to women. Jo wasn't exactly stick thin either; she'd understand.

But first, he'd talk to Betty.

Trying his best to be casual, he strolled over to her, grinning.

"Well, Betty, it looks like _he's_ going to dinner with me tomorrow," he said, nodding his head toward the elevator where Jo was getting on.

Betty paused, giving him the look of disgust. Again.

"Jo? Stern? She's…she's not your type, is she?"

"Well, let's see…she's beautiful, intelligent, funny and nice. Nope. I tend to go for ugly, boring and mean."

"You _know_ what I mean, Daniel!" Betty persisted. "I mean…she's not just some girl you could pick up and woo! She's a great photographer and it would mean a lot to this company…"

"I know, and I will be nothing but respectful. I'm an uncle now, Betty. I've got to keep a low profile and a clean reputation."

Betty gave him a doubtful look and went back to her notes. Something about her doubt in him stung him a bit.

"You believe me, don't you?" Daniel asked, sitting on the edge of her desk. She looked up at him with one of her "I overreacted" lopsided grins.

"Yes, Daniel, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have overreacted. Just…don't get in over your head, okay? I mean, she's supposed to be a real power dynamo. After what happened with Sofia Reyes, I just...I don't want you to get hurt either you know?"

"I won't."

Touched as he was by her concern, Daniel couldn't help but cringe at the hypocrisy of it all.

Sure. Don't get in over your head. Easy for her, Ms. Skin Article, to say.

"Speaking of which," Daniel continued. "I hear that you'll be working with Jo as well. Skin cream, is it?"

Betty looked up, startled.

"She…said that?"

"Yes. Seems she's quite excited about it. By the way, have you seen her portfolio shots?"

Betty looked down, trying desperately to focus her attention on the letters on her keyboard.

"Yes," she quietly replied.

"And…well, after seeing what she does, you're willing to…"

"Whatever we're doing, Daniel, I can assure you it will be very…tasteful."

"It better be," Daniel muttered, before he even had a chance to think about the words catapulting out of his mouth.

Betty barely processed it herself.

"What?"

"I just don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with just to get your foot in the door, that's all."

"_What?"_ Betty repeated louder, standing up. "Excuse me, but wasn't it _you_ who told _me_ that, to be a writer, I had to step out of my comfort zone?"

Oh crap.

She was right.

"Well, yeah, but…"

"Daniel, I appreciate your concern. I do. But for this story, I am_ not_ your assistant. I am a writer. An open-minded, eager, willing writer. Okay?"

No.

It was not okay.

The thought of her not being his assistant was most certainly not okay.

But it had to be.

For her.

"Okay."

"Good," she snapped. With that, she sat down and looked back at her emails. He was left to do nothing but return to his office.

She wasn't his assistant for this assignment.

But she was his friend.

He would do whatever he could to prevent this article from being printed, no matter how angry it would make her.


	3. Chapter 3

The night after she was given her new assignment, Betty couldn't sleep.

She had spent the day dodging Daniel's questions and discussing the article in more detail with Alexis. She was asked to go straight home and select her outfits for the next three days, told that her day would start with a quick photo shoot before she reported to Daniel and reminded not to discuss the articles with anyone.

Now that it was the day before she was set to start, a potpourri of thoughts invaded her mind and lounged around it like friends at a very engaging cocktail party.

If only she had Henry to talk to…

Or at least Gio.

No.

No Henry. No Gio. This was her time and hers alone.

(Who was playing guitar? It was nearly midnight!)

Where did Daniel get off giving her the third degree, anyway? How could he have the nerve to tell her what she was and was not permitted to do, particularly after making the moves on a very upscale photographer? What did _he_ care if she showed some skin? Hell, he showed _his_ skin to every woman in Meade enterprises absent of herself and Alexis, and _he_ was suddenly trying to endorse _modesty_?

Ugh…maybe he was right. Betty wasn't a skin bearer and she knew it. Why focus on her flesh when there was so much more to her?

_(Electric_ guitar?)

She could, perhaps, write the article, but just try to avoid taking the pictures.

How would she tell her dad about all of this?

(Electric guitar with an _amplifier_?)

That did it.

Betty needed an outlet for her aggression and Midnight Guitar Player was it.

She grabbed her key, stomped out of her apartment to the hallway and followed the noise of the guitar.

Two doors down.

She lifted her tightly clenched fist and knocked loudly.

"Hey! Keep it _down_, will you?"

She heard a thud, which sounded slightly musical as though a guitar had been placed very quickly on the floor.

Then the door opened.

It was a young guy. He had the look of a man who managed to make every one of his female high school classmates fall in love with him; not particularly attractive in and of himself, but quite charismatic. His brown hair hung in gelled strands over his deep brown eyes, and his cheekbones were raised on each side of his cocky grin. He was skinny – he probably weighed less than Betty did – but carried it well.

"Sorry," he said.

"Well, good!" Betty replied in a slightly miffed tone, for she was more than prepared to argue.

"Hey, you're new here, aren't you?"

"How do you know?" Betty challenged, crossing her arms. "Have all of the other neighbors become desensitized to this?"

"No," he replied with a soft laugh. "They hate it, but they kind of feel funny saying so because my dad's the landlord."

"Oh really?" Betty fumed, jumping at the chance to dispute something. "So, enlighten me – how come I've been late for work four times this week because it's entirely too disruptive for furniture deliveries to come on the weekends, but _you_ can play electric guitar at midnight?"

"It's good to be the landlord's son," he replied, smiling. "I'm Jesse, by the way."

"Well, _Jesse_, this is one hell of a first impression. Is this how you meet all of your father's tenants?"

"I think the _polite_ response would have been, 'Nice to meet you, my name is…'."

"Oh, that's rich!" Betty snapped. "You wake an entire building up and _you're_ giving _me_ a lecture on manners?"

"Good! You deserve it!" called a voice from overhead. Betty looked up to see an older woman in rollers and a pink bathrobe from an upper floor, looking exhausted. "I wasn't awake before, girlie, but I'm awake now!"

Betty practically swallowed her tongue she breathed in so deeply. She heard Jesse softly laugh and the woman above slam her door.

"Word to the wise, whatever your name is -" Jesse started, the arrogant grin still on his face.

"Betty," Betty whispered.

"Betty…hmm... You know, you look more like a Helen."

"_What_ is your word to the wise?"

"I'm betting you had your window open. Don't do that unless you really have to. See, these walls are thick and sound doesn't travel that well, but it does travel quite well two ways – through the windows and in the hallway. Like when girls come screaming for someone to keep it down. Neighbors don't really like that."

"Thanks for the advanced notice," Betty muttered. He giggled in a taunting way.

"So it was nice to meet you, Helen."

"Betty." He winked flirtatiously.

"I know."

He softly closed the door and Betty stomped back to her room.

Great.

Just what she needed.

Yet another charming idiot.

One more thing to think about and prevent her from getting the sleep she needed.

Unable to rest anyway, Betty glanced over at the outfit she would wear the next day as she stepped into her room.

It couldn't hurt to get used to wearing it, could it?

She went to her skirt first and placed it on. It was a knee length, pink skirt she chose from her own closet. Then, she picked up the black halter top that Alexis had given her and held it up to inspect.

It looked pretty small.

Before she had another minute to think about what she was doing, she took off the T-shirt she was sleeping in and put the halter top over her head.

Reluctantly, she turned to her mirror.

Shockingly, it wasn't all that bad.

In fact she looked…well, she looked pretty _good_.

The dark shirt, though tighter than she would have liked, was form fitting and flattering. The neckline was low – quite low – but she pulled it off. It actually showed off her curves, which Hilda had always said were her "finer features".

She, Betty Suarez, the new Betty Suarez with a new apartment and life, could wear tops like this one.

Betty's thoughts were abruptly cut off by a knock and a creak. She turned to see that her door was open.

She jumped slightly.

Jesse.

Trespassing.

Landlord's son or not, she would _kill_ him.

"Hey! You dressed up for me! Looks like someone has a crush!"

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Betty demanded, storming over to him. "I am telling your father that you're breaking into his tenants' apartments!"

"Before you do that, tattle tale, you should know that you have some facts mixed up."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. See, I didn't hear your door close, so I took a peek into the hallway to be sure that you weren't setting off stink bombs outside of my doorway. Then I noticed that your door was partially open, so, being the good neighbor that I am, I figured that I should let you know rather than take it upon myself to close _your_ door."

"Well…_thanks_, but I hear _knocking_ also helps."

"Oh, so do I, which is why I tried knocking, but I guess I nudged the door open by accident. Sorry."

Again with the charming annoying grin!

Only, this time, his eyes weren't looking at her face.

They were looking a bit lower.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Betty crossed her arms in front of her chest, attempting and failing to be subtle.

He must have caught himself, for he awkwardly blinked, looking apologetic for the first time all evening.

"Well, thanks for the warning, Jesse, and I assure you that I won't put any stink bombs in your doorway."

"Betty, look, I'm sorry if I…"

"No need to apologize! Goodnight!" Betty clumsily shut the door, bolted it, and took a moment to process what just happened.

How the _hell_ could she do this? Men…they never looked at her like _that_ before. Henry looked at her adoringly, and, sure, when they had been together…like _that_…he'd give her a glance or two, but she was, most certainly, not accustomed to near strangers looking…_there._

On the other hand, he was one guy. And, well, it was plainly obvious that he was a total idiot. Maybe the others would give her more of a look of repulsion.

She took her outfit off, folded it, covered it with a blanket, threw on her pajamas and got back to bed.

She didn't even want to see it until the next day.

* * *

Daniel had to hand it to Jo – she gave him a perfect first date.

First, they met at Bertucci's as he simply gawked at her. Her hourglass shape was well complimented in a form fitting dress. Daniel didn't pay much attention to its burgundy color or delicate fabric; his eyes and mind were fixed on her round hips and the same cleavage he saw earlier.

Then, they had some wine and ordered dinner. Joe was a wine enthusiast; she seemed to know exactly what to order. The Chianti she selected was delicious. Jo also wasn't kidding around; she _could_ eat, and wasn't at all shy to select a creamy gnocchi dish following a large fried zucchini appetizer to share with Daniel. Daniel never ate like this on dates, since most of the near emaciated women he'd been with were afraid of gaining ten pounds simply by looking at fried zucchini.

For dessert, Jo asked for fruit and chocolate, and Daniel knew he was in for it. She savored food in a way that made him think of how the other women he'd dated savored something _else_; something entirely different from fruit.

And, all the while, there was something different about Jo…

She was just so _smart_; a real conversationalist. She had such articulate and profound opinions on every topic discussed that it made Daniel feel…_inadequate_. He wasn't used to feeling like that; not as far as women were concerned. The only other woman he dated that made him feel that way was Sofia.

Just like Betty said.

She knew him so well.

Which was why, fun or no fun, he resolved to discuss Betty's article with Jo.

Later.

Because Jo was also very comfortable with her own sexuality, which was made abundantly clear when _she_ asked _Daniel_ if she could go to his place.

He'd never made love to a woman like her before.

For one, there seemed to be no real emotional baggage with her, and, yet, she didn't seem trashy about it, either. She was just like her photographs – provocative, classy and hypnotically sexy.

For another, he'd never been with a woman larger than a size 4. Jo may have carried it very well, but she _was_ a larger woman, which, unlike Daniel's preconceived notions, was not a bad thing. She was shapely and soft; her body rounded and curved in places he wasn't used to. She was like a depiction of beauty seen in an old renaissance painting; there was something classy and lovely about her plumper features.

He especially liked holding her, mostly because there was no fear that he could break her in half.

Speaking of women breaking…

He had to move before this article would completely break Betty.

Now he had Jo in just the right place. After their time together, she could probably trust him enough to discuss the assignment a little more.

He just had to find the right tactic.

Lying next to her, the two still, his face buried in her curly brown locks, he had an idea…

The stomach.

Of course! All women hated being touched, poked or prodded in the belly! Daniel had learned this after being given the silent treatment multiple times for this! In their warped heads, this was a cue to women that they were fat. He'd wake Jo up to her own female insecurities, which would prompt him to transition into Betty's and mention how detrimental it would be to her to have this article run.

It was brilliant.

Hey moved his hand, which was resting upon her hip, up to the soft, fleshy area underneath her belly button and placed it there gently.

He waited.

Nothing.

No "What am I, the Pillsbury Dough Boy?"

No flinching.

Nothing.

He tried rubbing his fingertips around the area a little.

"Um, Daniel?" Jo asked. "Are you playing with my belly button?"

"Maybe," Daniel whispered hopefully. "Does it bother you?"

"No," Jo replied, sounding completely sincere. "It's just…odd, that's all."

Odd.

Not exactly a turn on word.

Okay, time for a new tactic.

Maybe he'd awaken her to these insecurities in a different way without crossing the line and getting smacked for it.

Hmm…

"You know, you're not like any woman I've ever dated before."

"I know," Jo confidently responded. "I'm better. And more fun. And fatter."

Whoa…

She didn't even sound insincere about it. This was not your typical female fish for compliments. It sounded like she was stating an indisputable fact, not an opinion meant to be negated. She said it like it was nothing.

However, experience taught Daniel to be cautious.

"Oh, come on, Jo, I wouldn't say…"

"Please, Daniel. I'll say it now and avoid the awkwardness – I'm on the bigger side. I admit it, and I don't get weepy or insecure about it, either. I choose to be like this; if I want to be a skinny waif and feast on salads for the rest of my life, I will. I choose to live the way I want to, so I'll take the extra baggage as it comes. I don't mind it much; I haven't gotten many complaints for it, either."

Wow.

She was amazing.

It was surreal.

Just in case…

"Well, whatever you think, you're beautiful."

She laughed a little.

"Oh, come on, Daniel, don't you think I know that already?" He smiled back at her; not just because she was more of a riot with each moment he spent with her, but also because this was the perfect transition.

"It's great that you're so confident."

"Well, I have to be. I'm the only one forced to live with myself every second of the day until I die, so I'd better like what I am."

"Not all women feel that way," Daniel said, letting his hands run through her hair.

"I'm not all women."

"Betty, for instance. I mean, she's really insecure."

A pause.

Why?

"Betty?"

"Suarez? My assistant." Jo turned to Daniel, a puzzled expression on her face.

"I don't know if insecure's the word, Daniel. If anything, I think she's one of the rare women I know who _isn't_ insecure."

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked, wondering if there was any truth to what Jo was saying.

"Your models – _they're_ insecure. They'd rather strut around being what make men happy than just be at peace with themselves. Now, Betty, for instance, she doesn't need that. I mean, look at the article. Betty doesn't feel the need to do this article to snag a man or be accepted; she wants to do it to become an established writer and help other women. Her only issue with it was changing her image."

"Exactly!" Daniel exclaimed, hoping to divert Jo's attention away from making too much sense. "She doesn't like conforming. Why make her?"

"A girl like Betty writing an article for Meade enterprises? As she is, except for more skin? That's not conforming, Daniel! I mean, honestly, why do you think Alexis _chose_ her in the first place?"

"To bother me," Daniel muttered. Jo grinned perceptively at him.

"Daniel, you _are_ a trip."

"What? Why?"

"Well, you give the image of being this ladies man, and here you are, _way_ too emotionally involved with your assistant of all people."

Emotionally involved?

Was that a woman's way of saying what Daniel _thought_ she was saying?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daniel asked.

"Think about it," Jo calmly said, without a hint of insecurity or jealousy at all. "You're in bed with _me_ and you're talking about your _assistant_. If I were one of those insecure models we discussed, I'd be jealous." She grinned maliciously at him. "Lucky for you, this is just fun for me, just like it is for you."

"Jealous? Of Betty?" Daniel asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with where this was going. A small lump found its place in his throat. "She's my assistant. She's…my friend. I just don't want to see her get hurt, that's all. She's done the same for me more times than I could count."

"And how will showing just a _little_ more skin hurt her? I'm not shooting pornography, Daniel. I'm just allowing Betty the chance to display a bit more of her finer features than she did before."

The lump quadrupled in size.

"Which finer features?" Daniel asked, both hoping and not hoping for the answer.

"Her right elbow," Jo joked, placing her arms around Daniel and giggling to calm him down. "I promise you, Mr. Meade, my photographs won't scandalize you or her."

Daniel was tempted to press for more details when Jo started softly kissing his neck.

"You know, your concern is kind of cute," she whispered as she continued kissing his face.

Suddenly, Daniel _forgot_ to worry about Betty any more.

Besides, Jo was right. He _was_ in bed with _her_…

He'd go back to worrying about Betty tomorrow…


	4. Chapter 4

This wasn't going to work.

Betty reflected on the afternoon earlier, when she had spoken with Christina. Sure, the article was supposed to be secret; but she had to have _someone_ to talk to. The only problem was that it _was_ Christina. Christina knew her; she had her Betty expectations already. She thought Betty was crazy for agreeing to do this article; said that this is one big leap backwards for the feminist movement.

"_This_ is how we empower women?" she asked. "What next – a prostitution ring?"

Betty blamed this reaction on Christina's crazed, pregnant hormones, and bit her tongue from reminding Christina that, as long as they were discussing moral integrity, she should remember that she wasn't at Meade at all right now because she was on maternity leave and weeks away from delivering a dead man's child for money.

However, a part of her couldn't help but agree.

And that was yesterday.

_Now_ that she had made the journey to work in her new outfit, she whole heartedly agreed.

Nobody really _said_ anything at first. However, she saw a reaction in their faces. Well, the people who looked up, anyway. In truth, many didn't.

In fact, the men tended to look in the same spot that Jesse did.

The _women_ – especially the Mode women in the elevator – gave her more disgusted looks than usual. But not the looks they ordinarily gave. On a daily basis, the women at Meade looked at Betty like she was a very strange zoo animal doing something funny and inappropriate in front of small children; she was disgusting in a way they could laugh at.

Today, it wasn't like that.

The women would glare at Betty and roll their eyes as though they were angry at her. It seemed as though they were trying to say, "Who do _you_ think you are, taking the attention away from _us?_ Girls like _you_ shouldn't wear outfits like _that!"_

Her run in with Amanda was, quite possibly, the worst.

She had stopped into the Mode cafeteria to get Daniel his morning coffee and bagel when she saw Amanda step in soon afterwards for what she imagined was her typical midweek lunch – gummy bears and club soda.

"Hey, Yard Sale," Amanda taunted as she passed behind Betty, but then she heard the clicking of her stilettos stop as she looked closer.

Her eyes widened.

"What?" Betty asked.

"Oh…my…God," Amanda said, gawking at her like she was something obscene, yet laughable. "Which teenager's closet did you steal _that_ boobie bearing shirt from?"

"Nice to see you too, Amanda," Betty muttered, bringing her coffee to the register.

"Seriously, though. I mean, it's not _yours_," Amanda persisted. "Spill! Did Daniel have another jail bait run in that you had to cover up?"

"That, Amanda, is none of your business," Betty replied, managing to weakly smile at her as she paid.

"I guess not," Amanda continued, ignoring Betty's response. "He _is_ into Little Miss. Cottage Cheese Thigh photographer these days. Which means…" Amanda looked at Betty, amused. "Oh my _God!_ Now that he's into chubby chicks, you think he'll be into _you?"_

"_Goodbye_ Amanda!" Betty said, walking away quickly.

"He's never been a boob man, you know!" Amanda called after her.

As the elevator doors closed behind Betty, she was left to her thoughts.

This was a disaster.

She had no other choice.

She would go to Alexis. Now. She'd explain that this article was causing ridiculous rumors to surface regarding the professional nature of the relationship between her and Daniel. It was scandalous. It had to be stopped…

* * *

"It's _gold!"_

Betty gazed at Alexis in disbelief.

That wasn't _quite_ the reaction she was going for.

"What?"

"Oh, Betty, don't you get it?" Alexis asked, excitedly smiling at Betty. "Do you see how completely _insecure_ these women are? And jealous? They go through routine surgeries to get their breasts to look like yours and all you had to do was change your shirt!"

"Okay…I'm uncomfortable, now," Betty quietly said, feeling herself turn red.

"Oh, come on, Betty, why? Can't you take a compliment?"

"Being given the evil eye is a compliment?" Betty challenged.

"From _these_ women it is!" Alexis exclaimed, pacing in giddy contemplation. "I mean, to suggest that you were wearing that shirt to get Daniel to like you…I mean, _man_, these girls are exposing themselves – their envy and the kinds of low places they'll go to grab a guy - and they don't even know it!"

Betty could do nothing but contemplate the irony of that statement in silence. _She_ was the one bearing her skin, and _these girls_ were exposing themselves?

"Betty, you can't quit now!" Alexis insisted. "This is perfect! What a way to wake women up to themselves – conventionally attractive or not! Women need to know that looking sexy can be for _you_; it's not just limited to some mating ritual!"

Funny.

Looking sexy was a lot of tings, but it wasn't _for_ Betty. At all.

"Besides," Alexis continued. "Jo should be here at any minute to…"

Like clockwork, Jo walked in with a smile.

Betty looked at her, strutting in wearing a glamorous tan pants suit as her spiral curls bounced up and down, and couldn't help but think the obvious; Jo should have been the one writing the article, not her. Jo wasn't a conventional beauty, either; she was overweight, rather tall, and domineering in her disposition. However, there was something about her that simply radiated good energy when she walked into the room. She was a natural at this. Betty…well, wasn't.

"Morning, ladies," Jo greeted, and then turned her eyes to Betty. "My, my, Alexis, your brother's certainly going to be in trouble when he sees his assistant today."

Betty felt a bit uneasy.

That was a weird comment coming from someone who just went out with him yesterday.

Why would she say that?

Didn't she _like_ Daniel? She wasn't playing him for a fool, was she?

"Yup," Alexis agreed. "And every other man in this building."

At that, Betty wanted to scream.

Didn't anyone in this building notice that she had breasts before?

"Really, now," Betty insisted, trying to laugh it off. "You don't have to say that."

"Fine, fine, Miss Modest," Jo giggled, rolling her eyes.

"I swear, you'd think she never got a compliment before," Alexis muttered.

"Could we just take the pictures before Daniel's coffee gets cold?" Betty asked.

"No worries," Jo said, setting a tray down on Alexis' desk before picking up her camera that was locked in there the night before. "I was getting some coffee for myself and took the liberty of getting some for Daniel. I just brought it to him already. Alexis, Betty, these two are for you."

"Thanks!" Alexis graciously said.

Betty's vocal chords, however, didn't seem to work.

It was _her_ job to get Daniel coffee.

Not Jo's.

What, Jo was too good to date Daniel without trying to dump him on every assistant in a low cut shirt she could find – but _she_ could do the job of getting him his coffee?

Did the visibility of Betty's cleavage make her automatically lose the sufficient brain power necessary to get her boss his daily beverage of choice?

"Betty!" Jo said, clearly repeating her name.

"What?" Betty asked, a little colder than she had intended.

"Please sit over there in the corner for today's picture; I want to get just the right light."

Betty awkwardly walked over to a chair set up in the corner of Alexis' office, and turned to Jo to get more instructions.

"Okay, now, sit…"

Betty plopped down on the chair and smiled, as though posing for one of her typical, giddy photographs.

Jo looked thrown off.

"Oh, no, no, Betty, that's just not right."

"What?" Betty asked, liking Jo less every second. She turned to Alexis. "I…smile in pictures. I thought I didn't have to change anything about myself but the shirts."

"You don't," Alexis insisted, looking pointedly at Jo.

"Cool it, ladies," Jo calmly said. "Betty, I'm not trying to change you. You smile in photos you take for your own purposes, but these are going to be taken to reach women who are…_fed up_. They're frustrated; they're sick of fearing they won't be accepted by others. You have to be, well…bad ass."

"I'm not bad ass," Betty said, giggling. "I mean, I go to bed by ten. I have Disney bed sheets."

"That's not quite what I meant," Jo continued, repressing the urge to giggle herself. "What I want you to do now is forget all of that; forget everything for a minute and think. Think of every woman you've met who's had commentary on how you dress, how you act, what you eat and how you style your hair."

"I don't really style my hair."

"Just think," Jo insisted. "I want you to stop acting like you're fine with all of that and honestly tell me how that feels; not with your words, but with your face."

Betty, feeling rather silly, thought.

She thought of her Plump Tomato days and how furious she was when she came home. She thought about how her mom eagerly anticipated the news of how the other kids responded, which she never got, and how Betty stormed into her room, threw her tanktop at the bottom of her closet and never looked at it again.

She thought about high school; about how she was teased mercilessly each and every day by the same girls.

She thought of her first day at work when Amanda asked her if she was "the before".

"Good," came Jo's voice from what seemed like a distant place. "Keep thinking and look directly out of that window there. I'm getting profile shots."

She thought of her disastrous makeover her first year at Mode; how everyone in the office giggled at her and she was then humiliated in front of the entire meeting room.

"Betty, that's beautiful!"

She thought of the time Daniel asked her to stand in for the model that wasn't at the photo shoot on her first week of work. That was also the day she knew that Bradford selected her because she was so repulsive and disgusting that he knew Daniel would never be tempted to sleep with her.

Daniel put her there to get her to quit.

And a room full of people laughed.

Just like they always did.

She never cared before; she never gave them the time of day or stopped to think about them.

And here she was, taking it all in at once.

Before she even thought about what was happening, a tear fell from her cheek.

"Great!"

"Betty?"

Alexis' voice sounded concerned. After that, Jo stopped, sat in front of Betty, and gave her a hard gaze.

"You _are_ bad ass, you know," Jo said, her blue eyes gleaming. "Women who take the kind of crap you have from other people and then have to be _told_ to think about it – well, that's pretty tough. Tougher than all of those judgmental waifs combined."

That lessened the size of the lump residing in Betty's throat a bit. She showed her gratitude with a smile.

"Thanks. Excuse me." Alexis sympathetically nodded that it was okay for her to leave. She grabbed Daniel's breakfast and wiped the tears from her face before bringing it down to Daniel.

* * *

Daniel had a plan.

He would avoid Betty.

If that's what it would take for him to hold onto his sanity for the next three days, that's what he would do.

Besides, truth be told, his own concern for her was starting to bother him. Especially after what Jo said.

Maybe he was overly emotionally attached.

And, well, why should he be?

She was a grown woman. She could certainly take care of herself. She could handle losing her mom, taking care of her family, losing Henry, listening to everyone's catty remarks…she was tough. She didn't _need_ him to act like some great big protective cavemen out to clobber anyone or anything that could hurt her.

He shook his head, trying to focus on the final draft of the pages he had to submit to Alexis by that day, particularly one very long sentence that he just couldn't get through. It had been in front of him for the past _hour_; it was time he focused better.

Focusing better…

Staying busy….

Yes.

If he kept Betty really occupied, then he would certainly be able to focus better on what he was doing. He'd write her a note and send her on errands today. Errands out of the office. Away from all of the men at Player and their testosterone induced stares.

No.

Because, well, that was none of his business.

He wasn't doing this to get those goons away from her.

This was for him.

So he could work.

Yes.

After all, she was such a distraction. Not in the way she would be to the perverts in the office. No, Daniel didn't see her as a distraction in _that_ way. He couldn't. It was because…well, she was always so chatty. She was always asking _trivial_ questions like how his _day_ was going. As if that was _any_ of her concern. She'd probably demand to know how his date with Jo went, and get all giddy and excited and _cute_ when she heard it went well.

No. He wouldn't think of Betty being cute.

Thought erased from memory.

Man, that was such a Betty thought.

No.

No more Betty.

He'd think of Jo.

Yes. Jo.

That's who he _should_ think about.

Sexy, free spirited, intelligent, talented Jo.

She had the kind of casual attitude about things that Betty needed.

And she had such…beautiful teeth!

Daniel internally punched himself for going _there_.

No. He shouldn't.

Unlike Betty, Jo admitted the truth about herself. She was on the chubby side and she was okay with that. There was no insecurity or weirdness, nor was there any Betty-type fixation with childish things like _self esteem_ and _feelings_.

Jo was a woman.

A real woman.

Betty _could_ be, too.

She could be without a crutch to lean on; without her family to go home to or Daniel around to care about what she wrote or how she dressed. It was in her best interests for him to back off. It would be healthy.

He picked up a notepad and hastily scribbled.

_Betty –_

_Could you pick up my dry cleaning at 9:30? Oh, and then there's this interview with the photo department for staff models on the 4__th__ floor at 11; you should oversee that, because I'm swamped. Speaking of which, there's also a lecture I was invited to attend by one of our funders. It'd be great if you represented the magazine there and showed up. The info's on the email you sent me earlier this week._

_Just, whatever you do, don't knock; I have tons to get done today. If anyone calls, just write the messages down; I'll pick them up._

_--Daniel_

He quickly walked over to her desk and placed the note alongside her pink bunny. She would be here any minute.

He walked back to his desk and sipped the coffee Jo had brought him, grateful that Betty didn't have to come in to bring him any more.

However, his plan didn't entirely work.

In the next five minutes, when he was up to his thousandth attempt to get through the same sentence, his door opened and he heard Betty come in. He didn't have to look up; he could tell it was her from the sound of her footsteps and the appearance of her unkept hair from his peripheral vision.

"Good morning, Daniel. I got you your bagel."

Something didn't sound right about her voice.

I sounded a little…_nasal_. As if she'd been crying.

"I'm not really hungry," Daniel replied, not looking up. He knew if he did, he would be forced to see her upset and then he'd have to find out who was responsible…and he certainly didn't need to think about that. "You could have it."

"Um, okay."

Yes, something was definitely wrong.

No.

He wouldn't look.

He couldn't look.

He would look at the pictures of the models in front of him and not at Betty_ or_ her skin.

_She's a grown up._

_She's an eager, willing writer._

_She doesn't need you._

_She said so herself._

_If she doesn't want to be your assistant this week, fine. She doesn't have to be…_

"So, do you want some of your messages?" Betty asked.

She was right in front of him, clearly trying to catch his eye, for he could almost feel her leaning over the desk.

Once glance and he'd know what this article was about.

No.

"No. I'm kind of busy. Look, Betty, did you see my note?"

"Yes, Daniel. The thing is, I don't know if I'm _qualified_ to…"

"You can do anything," Daniel muttered, rereading the same sentence over and over again. "I trust you. Besides, I could really use the help."

"Fine," Betty coldly replied, and she left his office.

She noticed his coldness.

She was perceptive enough to pick up on the fact that he refused to look at her.

And it bugged her.

He could tell. For two reasons.

One – the sounds she made. He knew her sounds. Her voice was angrier than usual, and her footsteps were louder.

Two – the slamming of the door as she left.

He imagined her face; the furious expression in her eyes. He wasn't used to ignoring her like this. He had only done that once, and that was when he felt hurt by a decision that she made when she didn't tell him the truth about Wilhemina's affair. This time – well, she hadn't done anything wrong. At all. She had every right to be upset with him.

Hell, he was being stupid. He was bigger than this. He was a grown up, too, and he could handle her hurt expression. He could handle hearing that she was dealing with whatever abuse her colleagues dished out. He didn't have to fear his own reaction. He went his way and she went hers, and they were friends.

He could let her grow on her own and still be her friend.

He could see her in her skin and still be her friend.

After a few moments of contemplation, he decided he could do this. He could glance up, see Betty as she was, and march over to her desk to apologize for his rudeness.

Which he did.

Uh-oh…

…Betty did as she was told.

She left for his dry cleaning.

She would probably be gone for the day.

This would take a while to undo.

He tried shrugging it off, giving the sentence in front of him a millionth chance at being understood, but knew it was useless. He had to sort this out.


	5. Chapter 5

Night one – over

Night one – over.

Betty had tons of thoughts invading her mind and tap dancing around it at once after the day that she had, but, despite all of those, her eyes faced a blank screen. After an hour of trying to type something to describe her potpourri of thoughts, she surrendered.

She slammed her laptop shut.

How could she BS her way through her honest assessment of this pathetic excuse for an experiment?

She hastily opened her laptop again and her fingers furiously moved across the keys, typing:

"This experiment is pure crap. I've participated in it for one day. Men ignore me and stare straight at my chest, women hate me even more than they did before, and my boss finds me so disgusting he won't even look at me."

She stopped there.

She reread the last sentence again.

That's what was really bothering her.

She knew it.

That's what had her distracted through each mundane, pointless chore Daniel assigned for her. He thought that her choice to bear some skin was so utterly repulsive a sight that he couldn't bear to endure it.

It wasn't as though he ever particularly enjoyed looking at her, nor would she expect him to. But he never avoided her in such a way, as though she were some sort of fungus that he wished would be scrubbed away.

He never addressed her like that.

Like she didn't exist.

Like everybody else treated her in the entire office.

And, at that point, she needed him.

After Jo had essentially forced her into dwelling on every ego-bursting memory she had, she felt unusually small. It wasn't like her to get so silly and weepy over another person's words. She'd endured nasty comments all the time; how could she have gotten so weak all of a sudden?

All she wanted after the entire ordeal of her first shoot was normalcy. She had hoped she could vent a bit to Daniel about how ridiculous the entire thing was and wait for him to tell her she was overreacting, and that she should go back to her desk and check out one of her new favorite cute websites of the week. He'd have a list of things that he knew would cheer her up because, unlike the Daniel she encountered during her assignment, everyday Daniel saw her. He noticed. He cared.

She did not expect him to avoid her gaze like that, or to send her out on a wild goose chase just to get her out of his sight.

She was dwelling again.

_Okay, Betty…_

…_pull yourself together._

_Grow._

_Up._

_You are a worthwhile human being and an aspiring writer. You will just calm down and stop letting other people get to you._

_  
Bad...ass._

_Yes. I just said ass. Because I AM bad ass._

_Be bad ass._

Betty's inner pep talk was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

She softly groaned, attempting to convince herself that she had made some progress with the article that was now being interrupted. She turned her knob and saw the same cocky grin she saw yesterday. Only this time, it had a tint of an apologetic curve. Relieved that she'd changed into a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants, she looked at Jesse curiously.

"Hi," she cautiously greeted.

"I know what you're thinking," Jesse said in lieu of a greeting. "You think I'm some kind of crazy, perverted stalker, right?"

"I don't know about _stalker_, but, yeah, the rest seems right," Betty replied, managing to return his bit of a sarcastic grin.

"It's okay. I deserve it," Jesse replied, still smiling. "I wasn't very respectful yesterday, so I was kind of hoping you'd forgive me and save us both some awkwardness here."

"Are you apologizing?" Betty asked, smugly looking back at him.

"Kind of, yeah. You accept?"

"Well, that depends." Jesse raised his eyebrows.

"On?"

"On what you're apologizing _for_." Betty crossed her arms, feeling in complete control of this situation. It was a bit of a relief after being sunken into the abyss of uncontrollable feelings the remainder of the day. She loved the idea of prolonging this; if he was going to apologize, she had to be certain he'd do it right.

His smile faded a bit as he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on. You _know_."

"Actually, no," Betty teased. "I have no idea." Defeated, Jesse sighed.

"Fine. I'm sorry I was staring at your…at you. And entering your territory here without properly knocking first, accident or no accident. Better?"

"Yes," Betty said with a smile. "As long as it doesn't happen again, you're forgiven." He gave her a mischievous look, as though he couldn't really promise anything, and then nodded.

"Cool. So, let's try this again." He extended his hand for her to take, and she did. "I'm Jesse, your new neighbor."

"Hi, Jesse. I'm Betty, _your_ new neighbor."

"Nice to meet you! You know, you're the first person under forty I've seen in this building. Would you like to get coffee sometime?" Betty laughed, assuming this invitation was an extension of his new forced politeness.

"No, seriously," Jesse said.

"Really? Everyone's over forty here?"

"No…I mean, yes, but I was talking about the coffee."

Wow.

Nobody had ever asked her on a date that she was actually able to go on drama free. No prospective trips to Europe. No worrying that anyone would find out she was going because her suitor had impregnated another woman. Nope.

Just coffee.

That was it.

Even weirder – strangers didn't ask Betty on dates, either.

"Um, okay," Betty agreed, trying not to sound too surprised.

"Cool," Jesse replied. "Would tomorrow afternoon be okay? I've got a band and, while this week's been kinda dead, we usually practice in the evenings."

"Sure. I'll meet you during my lunch break!" Betty agreed. The two made meeting arrangements and then Jesse grinned.

"Nice to meet you properly, Helen."

"It's…"

"I know," Jesse teased. "I'm sorry. It's just…too easy."

"Okay, okay," Betty said, managing to smile. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow."

And then he looked at her.

Excited.

Curiously.

He was _flirting_.

As he walked up the staircase, Betty slowly eased her way back into her apartment.

What a day it had been.

One day of showing a little more skin and she had alienated her boss, affected men and women around her and gotten her first normal date invitation ever.

Was this wrong?

She couldn't help feeling that she _was_ selling out.

She needed something familiar, and picked up the phone to dial home.

"Hello?" came Hilda's voice from the other end.

"Hilda, thank _God_!" Betty said, sinking into her chair.

"Betty?" Hilda nervously asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just kind of been a crazy day."

"Oh, trust me, you haven't seen crazy unless you've seen the woman that came into the salon today. Dios mio, the girl came in with her parakeet! I thought Papi would flip!"

"Did he?" Betty asked, glad to change the subject to something lighter.

"Oh, he would have, but I smoothed it over. He's been so cranky lately. He misses you, Betty."

Guilt surged through Betty as she felt herself sinking deeper into her chair cushion.

"I'm sorry," she practically whispered. She heard Hilda's disapproving big sister sigh from the other end.

"Betty, how many times do I have to tell you _not_ to be sorry?"

"I know, I know, but I just hate that he gets upset."

"He's not upset. It's just the whole bird leaving the next or whatever. He'll deal. Besides, it's not like you don't talk to him on the phone three times a day anyway."

Hilda was wrong.

Today it was six.

Hilda must have noticed, for she continued with…

"By the way, what's going on at work?"

"Nothing," Betty quickly replied.

"Oh, no, don't even try it. You've never been a good liar, Betty."

So she spilled.

She told Hilda about Jesse and his date offer ("Damn, girl, can you go a day without a boy?"), her assignment ("Good for you, Betty! Let those jerks at Player see what they're missing out on!"), about, and, last but not least, Daniel's reaction to her.

Then there was a long pause.

"So? Hilda, say something."

"Wow, Betty. You know, I always thought that _you_ were the smarter Suarez sister."

"What?"

Betty heard what sounded like a deep sigh.

"Betty, he's not disgusted. He's protective."

"What? That's crazy! If he's so protective, than why would he send me off to ever y other place on Earth where anyone could have looked at me?"

"Maybe he's not just worried about anyone, Betty."

"That makes a lot of sense, Hilda. Then who…"

"Maybe he's worried about himself," Hilda interrupted. "He doesn't want to see you himself because he doesn't want to look at you that way." Betty rolled her eyes as though Hilda could actually see her.

"That's not being protective, Hilda. That's being afraid of how I look, just like I said.

"No – maybe he _knows_ you'll look good and _that's _why he won't look."

It was odd.

It was silly.

It made no sense.

It was giving herself too much credit.

"I just don't know, Hilda."

"Just make sure he sees you tomorrow. Then we'll see."

* * *

Daniel was ready to be a big boy.

Or that's how Jo phrased it.

The night before, Jo had invited Daniel to her place for drinks, which turned into another night of Daniel enjoying her and cursing himself inwardly for never giving girls like her a second chance before. Or a first chance, for that matter. Her confidence and sexuality were so attractive, he didn't know how he could ever simply get used to them – she could probably wow him forever if she wanted.

Not like someone like Jo would want something like that; she was far too independent and free.

After their bedroom escapades, Jo invited Daniel to have a drink with her. As usual, she was a captivating, intelligent conversationalist.

Until the subject of Betty came up.

"So, what do you think of your assistant now?" she asked. Daniel tried his luck at lying, although a voice inside his head told him he'd never convince Jo of anything.

"Betty? Oh, she looked great. You know, I think she'll do a really good job on this article."

"Alexis warned me about the thumbs up thing," Jo cut in, looking pointedly at Daniel's upturned thumb.

"Crap," Daniel said, not even realizing he had done that.

"You didn't even look, did you?"

"Well, it's just that I was…"

"Spare me, Daniel," Jo interrupted, looking put out. "I don't like things sweetened up for me or anyone else. I tell it like it is and I want the same in return. I don't care how insensitive you think I'll consider you."

"Will you?" Daniel asked, half worried that she would and half eager to change the subject.

"Depends. Why didn't you look?"

"What does it matter?" Daniel challenged. Jo wasn't his girlfriend. She made that fact perfectly clear every time she stressed that they were having fun and she couldn't be tied down. Why, then, should he fill her in on his feelings? That was the sort of thing couples did.

"As a woman, and the photographer on this assignment, it helps me to know what the closest man to the subject thinks and why he's so turned off to looking."

Wow.

He hadn't thought of it that way before.

He _was_ the closest to Betty, besides her family of course. Nobody ever came out and said that, but it was likely true.

Well…

Why did it bother him?

"It's just…I don't know, it's _Betty_. She's not someone I picture walking around and reeling guys in."

"She's had a marriage proposal and a guy ask her to run away with her to Rome in the past year."

"How did you…"

"Alexis."

"_Why_ would Alexis share Betty's personal information with you?" Daniel asked, feeling suddenly eager to have a long, irate chat with his sister.

"I asked. I like to know if the models I shoot are dating anyone. It affects how provocatively I shoot."

"Wh…really?"

"Sure. Look more closely at the hands on my girls. Married women are always a little more modest. It's respectful."

"Okay, wait," Daniel interrupted, feeling overwhelmed and disturbed as he realized that Betty was single and could then pose provocatively. "What's going on here? Why are we discussing my assistant…_now_?"

"Because you won't be straight with me and just tell me why you refuse to look at a girl like Betty dressed like she was."

"Well, what if I settle this problem and I do look at her? Tomorrow." Jo grinned maliciously at him. "What?"

"I'll bet you a Snickers bar that you'll freak out if you do."

"A Snickers bar?" Daniel asked, not able to hold back his grinned.

"I only go for the best," Jo replied, grinning back.

"Alright, you're on. I'd better get ready to put in another half an hour or so at the gym to work all of those calories off."

"What a waste of calories," Jo joked, extending her pinky for Daniel to take with his. "Bet?"

Daniel intertwined his pinky with hers and grinned back. "Bet.

* * *

"

A bet Daniel now wished he never made.

He came to the office early, hoping he'd get lucky and he'd be inundated with calls from advertisers.

No such luck.

Betty was due in at any moment and he didn't know which outcome was worse – her still being upset with him or her happily strolling in so he'd be forced to see how she looked – how she'd been appearing to the other pigs at Player yesterday and how she would for the next two.

Luckily, the guys in the office knew better than to discuss Betty with Daniel. He didn't hear any of the chatter, but he did catch a few of the guys talking in hushed tones.

But that could be about anything.

Couldn't it?

Well, he had to put everything plaguing him out of him mind. Before…

Daniel saw pink.

From within the confines of his peripheral vision he saw a pink-clad figure in Betty's desk area.

_Be a big boy, Daniel._

_Just look._

_It can't be so bad._

_Look._

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three…_

_Three and a half…_

_Okay. Three and three quarters._

He lifted his eyes up.

There she was.

He focused on her face first. It was the same face; the same innocent smile, the same red glasses, the same giddy brown eyes, the same thick eyebrows – that was Betty. Whatever lay underneath wasn't changing that and he was relieved.

Then he looked down a little lower.

Betty had…a shape.

Quite a shape.

Wow.

Underneath the layers of clothing she usually wore to the office, nobody would ever notice it before – Daniel included. He just sort of saw her shape as nonexistent underneath a sea of fabric. But she had curves – curves comparable to Jo's, and which looked very accentuated and appealing in the outfit she was wearing.

It was a simple outfit, too. Nothing crazy; no lingerie piece or crazy black leather costume.

It was just a little more skin, just as Jo had said.

Her overbearing swirl of colors was gone. She had on a simple pink halter top and a pair of black dress pants; that was it. The clothing fit her curves beautifully.

He skin looked soft and smooth; he'd never really seen that before, either. Her arms were a naturally tan shade, and they flowed smoothly down to her waist in an elegant way he wasn't used to seeing on her. Her entire neckline was exposed, which also made her look a lot more ladylike than he had ever seen.

He tried avoiding the obvious, but it was far too difficult.

Underneath her neckline.

Where – _where_ – did _those_ come from, and how on _Earth_ could she have kept them a secret for so long? How could he not have noticed them? They were shapely and round and…

No.

He wasn't going to look at Betty's…finer assets anymore.

Not when she was right there and he knew that he owed her an apology. He also knew that she'd still be annoyed until he marched right out and did it in person.

The closer he'd get, the harder it would be not to look…there.

Not that he didn't want to.

Upset by this sudden, unexpected urge in him, he tried thinking of the most unappealing things he could imagine simply to avoid being one of those disgusting Player men.

"Betty," he cautiously said as he walked through his doorway. "Hey. Look, I owe you an apology."

Betty, in the process of checking her messages, gave him that, "I'm-going-to-pretend-I'm-not-mad-but-I-really-am" look.

Why did she have to stay seated while he was standing above her and had no chair available to sit in? He had enough to apologize for.

"Oh?" Betty asked, not looking at him.

"Okay, I get it, you're not looking at me – I know how it feels. I was a jerk, okay? I'm sorry I acted like that – it was really rude."

"No, Daniel, you don't know how it feels," Betty cut in. She gave him a vulnerable look that broke his heart to see, and for a minute his temptation to look…_there_ again passed. "This isn't an easy assignment for me. I thought you of all people would do what you could to make me a little more comfortable."

"I know. I'm sorry. I was just…being overprotective and stupid. I was afraid to see what you were wearing because I didn't want the guys here giving you a hard time."

Uh oh.

He said something stupid.

The vulnerable look turned to hurt.

"Am I so horrible, Daniel, that my decision to try dressing differently would make all the guys here give me a hard time?"

"No!" Daniel replied, startled at being misunderstood and still avoiding the urge to look where she wouldn't want him to.

"Look, I know I can't pull this look off exactly like, say, Amanda would, but that's not the _point_. This is to empower women, and they picked me because guys _don't_ look at me like that. This is just to make _me_ feel good about _myself_ to help sell skin cream that will help make other gawky women feel good about _themselves._ But, you know what, if I'm so terrible that the minute you hear that my attempt to dress in more skin bearing clothing is a total joke in this office, maybe I should just drop the assignment because I'm incredibly _hopeless_."

For a moment, Daniel didn't care about what Betty was wearing.

He didn't care what any of the other guys thought.

He didn't care about anything else except for one thing –

Betty was discouraged.

He had discouraged her.

After all of the encouragement that she gave him, one stupid action of his completely discouraged her.

He had to stop this.

"No! Betty – don't drop the assignment! It's a great opportunity!" Daniel insisted.

"Why? Other girls can look at me and feel better about themselves? Insecure girls can have a token ugly role model for everyone to laugh at?"

"Because people aren't looking at you in _disgust_, Betty. Not at all. I mean, really…you look great."

And he meant it.

He knew she knew that, too, because her eyes shone in that touched, flattered way they did whenever he surprised her by doing something right.

"I do?"

"Oh, come on, Betty, you're a smart girl – you knew that."

"Well…I don't know, I guess, but I thought you just thought I was disgusting yesterday!"

"Are you serious?" Daniel asked, feeling more ashamed of himself than ever. "Betty, do you honestly think that I'd ever find you disgusting?"

"I didn't, but you were acting so weird…"

"Because, like I said, I'm a jerk. And I didn't want to see what the guys here were seeing because they're not the kind of guys you want looking at a girl you respect."

She blushed and smiled now.

He redeemed himself.

He felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Thank you, Daniel. But I handled myself pretty okay yesterday. I mean, yeah, there were a few awkward looks here and there, but everything was fine. No perverted remarks."

"Good," Daniel replied, feeling relieved. "Are we good now?"

"We're good," Betty said, and Daniel felt another urge. He bent lower and wrapped his arms around her, noticing that her frame felt much smaller when it wasn't padded with layers of clothing.

"I'm so sorry, Betty."

"Apology accepted, Daniel," Betty replied. "I'm sorry I didn't have more faith in you."

"So," Daniel said, pulling away and walking towards a neighboring desk where he pulled a chair over, because this urge to keep looking from overhead would not go away. "How did it go? Your first day on the assignment. Have you written anything yet?"

"Well, yeah," Betty said reluctantly. "I started. It's hard to tell where this is going to go."

"How about you? How are you doing with it?"

"Well, I'm doing pretty well. It's hard seeing the women treat me crappier than they did before."

"Well, Jo was telling me you look great."

"Oh, yeah?" Betty dryly replied, sounding not too fond of Jo. "How's that going?"

"Fine. We're just having fun; nothing too serious," Daniel replied, grateful to be back to a normal conversation again.

"Well, as long as you're both on the same page."

"She's more on this page than I am," Daniel replied, feeling slightly disappointed to report this. As lightly as Jo took their relationship, she was growing on him, but he felt almost afraid to admit that – even to Betty.

"Well, maybe that's for the best, Daniel. I mean, you never know what'll happen. Speaking of relationships, a guy in my building asked me on a date yesterday."

"Really?" Daniel asked, genuinely excited for her until something hit him.

She was wearing one of her more revealing outfits yesterday.

Damn it.

Daniel was her _boss_ and her friend and he was finding it hard not to stare. Some random guy she didn't know who lived in her building asked her on a date…when she was dressed for the article?

"Yeah," Betty said. "Actually, it's weird. I met him a few days ago and we didn't hit it off right away; he was playing loud music in the wee hours of the night and I went to tell him to stop…"

A musician.

Great.

Just what Daniel needed to hear.

"…and then I left my door open so he came to let me know, and at that point I had changed into the outfit I was wearing yesterday, so he kind of, well…"

"He _what_?" Daniel pressed, his tone becoming more serious.

"He kind of…looked. Well, you know."

An adrenaline rush surged through Daniel, and he forgot for a moment that he, himself had done the same thing a few minutes ago.

He didn't like the idea of some strange musician looking at Betty – at _his_ Betty – like that.

"And you're going out with this guy? Are you insane?"

"Well, no, Daniel, I'm not done! He came by yesterday to apologize and then asked – very respectfully, by the way – if I could get coffee today."

"Well, of course he was respectful!" Daniel said, holding in the desire to find this guy and tear his eyes out. "He was trying to get in your good graces to get you out."

"And, gee, Daniel," Betty teased, grinning and apparently enjoying this reaction a hell of a lot more than he did. "You'd know nothing about using mildly manipulative strategies to get a woman out, would you?"

Ouch.

She killed his entire point.

He could say nothing about this; it would make him a hypocrite.

That didn't mean he had to like him.

"Fine," Daniel said, eager to be on good terms with Betty again. "Just…be careful, okay? You don't know this guy."

"I will, Daniel. We'll only go to very well lit places – I promise."

"Good," Daniel replied. "And if anything happens, you'll let me know right away, right?"

"Um…sure," Betty squeaked.

"Betty…"

"Look, Daniel, I'll be fine. If he's a jerk, I think I can handle myself. I've had a lifetime of experience with jerks these days."

Another thing that made Daniel furious.

Why did Betty have such poor luck with men? She was such a sweet, kind, giving girl. And now – seeing her dressed in these more flattering clothes – well, there was a beauty to her he never really saw. It was still unconventional and she was, by no means, ready for the cover of Mode.

But it was so unique and wonderful.

There was a sense of life and wonder and innocence about it.

If this musician did anything to shake that, Daniel would find him, tear him apart and make certain that he never went anywhere within a hundred yard radius of Betty again.

But he couldn't say that now.

He had to trust her.

He had to trust him.

In two more days, he'd feel better about the whole thing.

"Okay, then. Just…keep going with this article, Betty. It's going to be great." She smiled her bright, metallic smile at him.

"Thanks!"

Daniel nodded and walked towards his office. "Lots to do today – we'd better get started."

And they did. The morning went quick – quicker than Daniel would have hoped, because, at about 12:30, he showed up…

The musician showed up.

Daniel saw the way he looked at Betty – he was ready if she needed him. He always was.


End file.
